


A Rose by Any Other Name

by bavariansugarcookie



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Don't worry, F/F, Getting Together, Happy Ending, I just wanted Sansa and Margaery walking in the rose garden together being happy, I kind of forgot about Loras oops, Joffrey Baratheon Being an Asshole, Joffrey's death is the only canon thing that happens, Margaery is very coy and Sansa is oblivious, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, and then this monstrosity happened, but he's having a very good time making out with his secret boyfriend, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bavariansugarcookie/pseuds/bavariansugarcookie
Summary: Margaery brings Sansa into her household to keep her away from Joffrey, and soon they're inseparable. At least until Margaery's wedding.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 8
Kudos: 121





	A Rose by Any Other Name

The day after Sansa met Margaery in the garden, Joffrey screamed at her for dropping a cup.

Sansa sat, stone faced, as he shouted and jeered at her. She knew from experience that he wanted her tears more than anything else.

After he called her a witless, useless oaf for the second time, Margaery turned to him and said sweetly, “Darling, don’t trouble yourself. Surely a stupid girl like that doesn’t deserve your attention?”

Joffrey stared at her, his mouth gaping like a fish, and it would have been amusing if Margaery’s words hadn’t cut deeper than Joffrey’s. “Of course, my love,” he finally managed. “You know how much stupidity bothers me.”

Margaery gave him a sympathetic smile. “Of course.” She patted his hand and Joffrey leered at her. Sansa looked down at her plate. She suddenly had the urge to slap him.

“You know,” Margaery said thoughtfully, “I could use a new servant. Perhaps Sansa would do?”

Joffrey looked up from his wine glass. “What?” His eyes flickered over to Sansa and she bit her lip to hide a shudder. “Her?”

“Well, I know how much you  _ hate  _ idleness,” Margaery said. “So I thought I could find a use for her.” She looked at Sansa. “Surely she can do  _ something _ .”

“Lord Stark’s daughter, a servant?” Petyr Baelish said. “Wouldn’t that offend the Starks’ allies?”

Margaery laughed as if it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “Call her a lady-in-waiting if it makes you feel better, Lord Baelish. But they haven’t stirred themselves over Lord Stark’s execution, so I hardly think they’ll fret over his daughter working for her bread.”

Sansa bit her lip.  _ It’s not true _ , she thought.  _ They do care _ . But the words rang as hollow as leaves rustling in the wind.

Joffrey beamed at Margaery. “You’re right, of course, darling. Even if they cared, they could never stand up to  _ me _ .” He leaned over and whispered in Margaery’s ear so loudly it carried through the hall. “You may have to be harsh with her, my love. She is intolerably stupid.”

Margaery smiled wickedly. “Leave her to me,” she said, and Joffrey beamed, returning to his dinner. Sansa stared at her plate, unable to eat any more.

After dinner, Sansa fled as soon as Margaery sent her up to her room. She sat by the window, trying not to think about Margaery, wondering where Arya, Jon, and Bran were instead. If they missed her as much as she missed them.

When Margaery came in she hurried to dry her tears. “My lady,” she said, standing and dropping a curtsy, trying to remember how the servants had spoken to her mother, how Cersei’s ladies spoke to her. 

The other girls giggled behind their hands, but Margaery just smiled. “You can leave, Elinor,” she said, turning to the tallest girl.

Elinor frowned. “But…”

“I think it’s best to teach Sansa without an audience.” She raised an eyebrow conspiratorially. “Surely you can find something to do with your evening.”

Elinor’s eyes widened and she and the other girls dropped a curtsy and dashed out of the room. At the last minute Elinor turned back and set a basket on the table by the door. 

“Oh, yes,” Margaery said. “I brought back some food for you. I noticed you didn’t eat much at dinner.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, surprised.

Margaery sat down and smiled at Sansa in the mirror. “You can sit anywhere,” she said, reaching up to undo her hair.

Sansa opened the basket and found pears, bread, a quail pasty, and two tiny lemon cakes. She took a bite of the pasty and realized it was still warm.

“I’m sorry about what I said about your father,” Margaery said softly. Sansa looked up and saw Margaery watching her in the mirror as she ran her fingers through her braids. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Sansa said, with a bitter edge to her voice she couldn’t help. “It’s true.”

Margaery turned, frowning. “But I didn’t  _ mean  _ it, Sansa. I wanted to keep you out of Joffrey’s reach, but he would never have said yes if he thought I liked you.”

Sansa blinked. “You did?”

“Yes. I was sick of watching him make you cry,” Margaery said, a sharp edge to her voice Sansa had never heard before. She smiled as she reached out to take Sansa’s hand. “You’re my friend.”

Sansa smiled shyly. Margaery grinned wider and she said with a conspiratorial whisper, “Don’t worry, I won’t make you do anything loathsome.”

Sansa laughed. “No cleaning chamber pots?”

Margaery laughed. “No, although I’ll have to tell Joffrey I’ve given you the worst jobs possible.” She turned back to the mirror and picked up the gold hairbrush.

“You could tell him you make me scrub the floor on my hands and knees,” Sansa suggested.

“And you cry into the bucket! That’s just the thing he’ll love,” Margaery said, running the brush through her auburn hair. “And of  _ course _ you’ll be too busy hemming my clothes to come to dinner with us.” 

No more dinners with Joffrey. Sansa beamed and popped a lemon cake in her mouth and Margaery winked at her in the mirror.

“Do you mind helping me with my hair?” Margaery asked, brushing it over her shoulders. “Elinor usually does, but Grandmother will be horrified if I don’t do it.”

Sansa carefully set the basket down. “I don’t know how good it will look,” she admitted. “It’s been a while since I had anyone to practice on.”

“Just a long braid, and then I can pin it up,” Margaery said, straightening her shoulders.

Sansa took the brush and separated her hair into three sections, careful not to pull too hard. Her hair smelled sweet, like quince blossoms, or jasmine. Margaery looked up at Sansa in the mirror as she started braiding. “Did you braid your sister’s hair?”

Sansa snorted and covered her mouth in horror, but Margaery just laughed, not unkindly. “I suppose that’s a no?”

Sansa shook her head, her cheeks still burning. “My sister would never let me  _ touch _ her hair. My mother tried, but Arya would howl the entire time, until she finally gave up and cut Arya’s hair short.”

Margaery smiled. “She sounds funny.”

“She’s a menace,” Sansa said with a sad smile, wrapping a tie around the bottom of the braid. Margaery reached over her shoulder and caught Sansa’s hand, squeezing it gently. 

“Would you like me to braid your hair?” Margaery asked. “I used to braid my cousins’ hair and I miss it.”

“...Alright,” Sansa said. Margaery stood and ushered over to sit down in front of the mirror. She took the brush and ran it through Sansa’s hair gently. Sansa closed her eyes. She could almost imagine she was home, in Winterfell, listening to her mother hum while she braided.

***

Sansa couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy. She spent her days sewing with Margaery and her other ladies-in-waiting or wandering through the rose gardens while Margaery told her their names. Cersei came to have lunch with the Tyrells occasionally, but Margaery would usually come up with an urgent errand for Sansa so she wouldn’t draw attention.

But evenings were her favorite part of the day. While Margaery ate dinner with Joffrey, Sansa sat in her room and read, or sewed, waiting for Margaery. She’d come back with sweet buns or fruit tarts and the latest gossip, and they’d talk late into the night. 

One afternoon Petyr Baelish stumbled on Sansa waiting for Margaery in the gardens and asked how she fared. Margaery found them soon after and she ran up to catch Sansa’s hand. “Oh, Sansa, I’ve been looking for you! I have some new dresses and you must help me pick the prettiest one!” 

She gave Petyr a cold look and swept away, her arm looped through Sansa’s.

“What’s wrong?” Sansa whispered.

“Nothing.” Margaery pursed her lips. “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” she finally said.

“But he’s always been kind to me,” Sansa said, rattled that Margaery was suspicious of Baelish as well. “He knew my parents.”

Margaery smiled. “I know… I’m sure I’m being silly.” She patted Sansa’s hand and Sansa bit her lip. 

“I’ve never liked him either,” she confided. 

Margaery smirked at her and leaned in. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t,” she whispered conspiratorially and Sansa laughed.

“I promise,” she said, trying to ignore the way her cheeks burned.

***

A few weeks later Margaery came back to her rooms looking rattled. Sansa swung her legs down from the window seat. “What’s the matter?"

Margaery smiled weakly. “Nothing. Joffrey was in a foul mood today, that’s all.”

Sansa put a hand on her shoulder. “Did he hurt you?”

Margaery shook her head. “I try to ignore him, but when I remember I’m  _ marrying  _ him,” she whispered, with a shudder.

Sansa’s stomach twisted in knots. She wanted to tell Margaery that Joffrey would love her forever, that she’d be safe, but they both knew it wasn’t true.

“I’ll kill him if he hurts you,” Sansa said, her voice sharp, and Margaery’s eyes widened.

“Sansa, shhh,” she said, pulling her away from the window. “You can’t say things like that!”

“I don’t care!” Sansa insisted. “I won’t let him!”

“Sansa, it’s alright,” Margaery said, but she couldn’t hide the worry in her eyes.

“How do you know?”

Margaery paused. “My grandmother promised it would be alright. She swore.”

“Hopefully you’ll be widowed twice,” Sansa said.

Margaery shook her head mutely, pulling Sansa over to the bed. “You’ll get to meet my cousins at the wedding,” she said soothingly. “And you haven’t even seen your new dress yet.”

Sansa smiled weakly. “You’ll be the most beautiful one, of course,” she said, and Margaery smiled and squeezed her hand.

“If you want… you could go to Highgarden with my cousin Saryn after the wedding. You can explore the gardens, and ride my horse.” She gave Sansa a searching look. “Would you like that?” 

Sansa’s mind spun. Leaving King’s Landing. Being finally free of the Lannisters. Margaery reached up and brushed her hair behind her ear.

Sansa squeezed her hand. “That sounds wonderful. But who will tell me the names of all the roses?” Margaery smiled and pulled her close, resting her head on Sansa’s shoulder. Sansa wrapped her arm around Margaery, running her hand up and down Margaery’s arm.

***

Sansa was right, of course. Margaery really was a beautiful bride. She shot a smile Sansa’s way as she made her way to the High Septon and Sansa smiled back. But her blood ran cold when she looked up at Joffrey waiting for her. 

After the wedding, Sansa did her best to talk normally. Olenna came to speak to her, resting her hand on Sansa’s shoulder. “Quite the lavish affair,” she said, looking around at the tables piled with joints of venison and pies and platters of fruit. She smiled down at Sansa ruefully. “It’s really such a shame about your brother. What sort of monster would kill a man at a wedding?”

Sansa’s eyes filled with tears and nodded, not trusting her voice not to break. Olenna patted her arm sympathetically. “You’re a sweet girl. That necklace suits you.” 

“Thank you,” Sansa whispered. “It was too kind of you.”

Olenna smiled. “It was my pleasure.” She nodded at the head table. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Sansa looked up at Margaery, radiant and smiling next to Cersei’s cold sneer. Margaery caught her eye and smiled softly as she pooped a grape into her mouth. “Yes, she is,” Sansa murmured.

***

The feast had hardly even started when Joffrey died. 

Cersei dropped to her knees by Joffrey’s body, tears streaming down her face as she screamed for help. Margaery sat frozen in her seat, her cheeks deadly pale.. 

Sansa watched as Joffrey’s face turned red, then purple, and his flailing arms gradually slowed. Margaery slumped to the ground next to Cersei, reaching out for him, and Sansa thought  _ she is twice-widowed now  _ with a fierce stab of spite.

Margaery caught her eye and she stared sharply, just for a moment, before she turned back to Joffrey. “No, darling, no, no…” she wailed. 

Sansa felt a hand on her elbow and spun around. “Elinor, you scared me!” she whispered.

“Sorry, My Lady, but you need to come with me. Now.”

Sansa glanced over her shoulder at Margaery. “Now?”

“Yes, Lady. Now,” Elinor insisted, grabbing her hand and leading her toward Margaery’s chambers. 

As soon as the door to Margaery’s suite swung shut, Elinor put her hands on Sansa’s shoulders. “We need to get you out of the palace before they notice you’ve gone.”

“What?”

“Joffrey is dead. And they’ll suspect you.”

“Me?” Sansa asked, feeling that prickle of dread sliding down her spine.

“Yes.” Elinor reached up to unclasp the necklace. “Olenna gave you this to wear, didn’t she?”

Sansa frowned. “Yes, she said it would bring out my eyes….”

Elinor held up the chain, with one purple gem missing. “I’m sure it did. But it also held the poison that killed the King.” She walked to the window and threw the necklace into the hedge below.

Sansa remembered Olenna talking about her brother, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “So Olenna wanted me to take the blame,” she whispered.

“She couldn’t let Margaery marry that wretch,” Elinor said sharply. “And you have more reason to hate Joffrey than anyone.”

Sansa swallowed. “I suppose everyone will say I was jealous that he left me for Margaery.”

“Yes. Which is why we need to get you out of King’s Landing.”

Sansa laughed. “How? If I could just leave King’s Landing I would have done it ages ago.”

“You didn’t have me then.” Elinor reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a plain gray dress. “Now, hurry up, we won’t be able to smuggle you out in that get up.”

She undid the laces on Sansa’s dress with nimble fingers and threw the gray dress over her head. “Here’s a travelling cloak, and a cap to cover your hair,” she said. Sansa set the cap on her head and tied the short cloak around her shoulders as Elinor picked up one of Margaery’s traveling chests.

“I’ve packed up your things,” Elinor said, thrusting the case into her hands. “You’ll be traveling with one of Loras’ men, Tristan - if anyone asks, your name is Alayne.” Sansa nodded, running the name through her head. Elinor took her hand. “Now come on, follow me.”

She led Sansa through the servants’ hallways, down to the kitchens. She peered into the kitchen garden before she grabbed Sansa’s hand and dragged her outside.

“I can’t leave the grounds,” she whispered. “Tristan will meet us at the gate. You’ll take the road down Highgarden.”

Sansa tripped over a forgotten basket. “Does Margaery know? Will she be alright?

Elinor bit her lip and dragged Sansa on, until they finally reached the gate. “He’s not here yet,” Elinor sighed. She finally looked Sansa in the eye. “Margaery doesn’t know. Olenna is going to ‘find’ the stolen necklace outside your room and say you’ve fled North. No one will expect you to ride south.”

Sansa nodded, trying not to flinch at every rustle of the wind through the leaves. “So Margaery won’t be blamed?”

Elinor shook her head. “No. We’ll keep her safe.”

Suddenly they heard the clatter of hoofbeats coming up the garden walk and both girls froze. “Elinor,” a soft voice whispered.

“Tristan,” Elinor said, turning faintly pink as she pulled Sansa behind her. 

“There you are,” Tristan said. He was wearing a dark gray cloak instead of his usual Tyrell colors. “Come now, Lady, we need to be off.”

Sansa swallowed and nodded. Elinor caught her elbow and pulled her into a hug. “Tell her goodbye for me,” Sansa whispered.

“I will,” Elinor whispered back. “I wish I was going with you. The roses will be blooming for you.”

Sansa smiled. “I’ll miss you, Elinor.”

Elinor smiled slyly. “We’ll all miss you, Lady. Especially Lady Margaery.”

Sansa blushed but Elinor shooed her toward the gate. “Now, go!”

Tristan held out his hand and helped Sansa swing into the saddle. He mounted his own horse and Elinor waved. “Be careful! Both of you!” 

Sansa smiled weakly and clucked at her horse to follow Tristan down the walk. She didn’t look back.

They turned down so many side streets that Sansa would have been lost without Tristan. Too soon the castle bells started tolling and Tristan patted his horse’s neck. “Come, Lady,” he said over his shoulder. Sansa took a deep breath to steel her nerves as she followed. 

They took a winding route through the city, and the streets became more and more crowded with merchants and travelers and people bustling about. The news hadn’t seemed to reach the southern side of King’s Landing.

Tristan slipped some coin to the porter at the gate, and then they rode out onto the road. Sansa looked up at the tree branches stretching overhead. She heard a mourning dove coo her left and twisted in the saddle, watching King’s Landing sink suddenly behind the trees. 

***

They rode for hours, and the number of riders they met on the road dwindled until Sansa could hear nothing but the jingle of the horses' bridles and the squeak of the saddles. Tristan fished an apple and some cheese out of his saddle bag and handed them to her. "We'll be stopping for the night soon," he said. "But I doubt you had much to eat at the feast today."

Sansa took a bite of the apple. "No, I didn't. Joffrey was dead before the soup course."

Tristan threw his head back and laughed so loudly that it startled one of the thrushes, which trilled loudly to show its displeasure. Sansa looked at him, surprised, and he shrugged. "I know some would say not to speak ill of the dead, but what kind of bastard dies before dessert?"

Sansa's eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline, and she laughed so hard she almost tipped out of her saddle. Tristan coughed. "I'm sorry my lady, I forgot myself. I -"

She shook her head. "Don't be sorry. I'd just gotten so used to everyone being afraid to admit that he was an utter bastard in every sense of the word."

That got another laugh out of Tristan. "I can see why Lady Margaery likes you," he said. "She always likes those that speak their mind."

"Does she?" Sansa said, hoping he didn't notice her blush.

"Yes," Tristan said with a wink. "It's why upstart young knights like me get appalling manners and think we can call Kings rude names."

Sansa laughed. "Well there's no one here to be offended. It's not as if Joffrey can vouch for his honor."

"Oh, you've got a sharp tongue, lady." Tristan laughed, and Sansa found herself laughing too. 

***

As the light started to dim Tristan pulled out a map. "There should be an inn just ahead," he said, squinting in the dusky light. 

Sansa bit her lip. "Do you think they'll be suspicious that we're traveling alone?"

"We'll say you're my younger sister, so they shouldn't think twice."

Sansa nodded, swallowing down her nerves.

Luckily the inn was so full when they arrived that the innkeeper hardly spared them a glance. But unluckily there was only room left, with only one bed.

Sansa felt her cheeks burn, but Tristan pulled a bed roll out of his pack and laid it out on the floor. "You take the bed, lady."

Sansa smiled. "Thank you, Tristan."

He smiled. "Of course. I'd sleep on rocks if it meant getting to leave that wretched city." 

Sansa hummed. “I’ll make sure to tell Elinor what a gentleman you are.”

Tristan cleared his throat. “Right. Well, I'll run down to the stables to check on the horses.”

Sansa laughed and he ducked through the door with a wink, leaving her alone to unbraid her hair.

***

The further they rode from King’s Landing the warmer the weather was, and one morning Sansa caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and noticed a new smattering of freckles across her nose. 

When they finally reached Highgarden, the Tyrrell cousins gaped at Sansa, whispering behind their hands. Tristan pulled a letter from his saddlebag and handed it to Margaery’s eldest cousin Mira. Her eyebrow rose as she read, but she smiled placidly at Sansa. 

“Welcome to Highgarden, Sansa. The Tyrells are happy to have you after your trying time in King’s Landing.”

Sansa smiled and curtseyed. “Thank you, Lady. I’m grateful to be here.”

Mira’s smile softened. “Of course, any favorite of Margaery’s is welcome here.”

***

The Tyrell cousins reminded Sansa of listening to Margaery and her ladies laughing and gossiping, and it made her miss Margaery even more. 

One day a messenger came in with a letter to Sansa - from Margaery. She took it and ran out to the rose garden to read it. She sat under a rose trellis and ripped the envelope open.

_ Dear Sansa - or should I say Alayne - _

_ I hope you’re enjoying Highgarden. Are the roses blooming yet? I wish I could be there to see them with you. _

_ I was so upset when I came back to my room and found you were already gone - I wish I had been able to say goodbye! I was so angry with Grandmother for not telling me about the plan beforehand. But I am relieved that you were able to leave the city before Cersei could start looking for you. _

_ Lord Baelish has been particularly dour lately - apparently he wanted to whisk you away to the Iron Islands after the wedding, but Grandmother insisted that you come to stay at Highgarden. I was so relieved - I hate the thought of you trapped on those cold islands. _

_ Now that Joffrey is dead, Grandmother is negotiating an engagement with Tommen. He’s much sweeter than Joffrey, but I am worried that he’s so young that he’ll be tied to Cersei’s apron strings.  _

_ I think Cersei is jealous that you’re the most famous woman in King’s Landing - it seems that Joffrey wasn’t as popular as he thought, so you’ve become something of a folk hero here. Cersei is furious, but it makes me laugh. _

_ Elinor is here telling me I need to hurry to get ready for dinner, and she says that she hopes you’re well. I told her I could ask after Tristan if she liked, but she just made a face at me. I’m sure you don’t mind passing along the message.  _

_ I miss you. It’s not the same coming back from dinner to an empty room, with no Sansa to gossip with or tell me a story. _

_ Always thinking of you,  _

_ Margaery _

Sansa’s hands shook as she read the letter over and over. Margaery - married to Tommen? He was much better than Joffrey, but trying to imagine him married to Margaery made her heart ache. 

She heard footsteps coming up the walk, and she hurried to wipe any tears. “Oh, Sansa, there you are!” Mira said. “I thought I might find you here.”

“Hello, Mira,” Sansa said, smiling. “Did you get a letter from Margaery?”

“Yes,” Mira said. “She says Grandmother wants to marry her off to Tommen! Can you imagine?”

“I know,” Sansa said. “He’s better than Joffrey was, but....”

“Still a Lannister,” Mira whispered, and Sansa laughed despite herself.

“Yes. Still a Lannister.”

***

Sansa wrote a letter back to Margaery (signed as Alayne, just in case) telling her all about the journey to Highgarden, and how she still wasn't used to the warmth.  _ Don't laugh, but I've started wearing dresses without sleeves too. But I still don't understand how you can wear them in King's Landing. It might not be Winterfell, but that castle is cold.  _

She added in Tristan's answer to Elinor, and dashed off a last thought before she could change her mind.

_ The roses are just as beautiful as you said they would be. I wish you could be here to see them.  _

_ Forever your friend,  _

_ Alayne _

Margaery's next letter was about a dinner Cersei had thrown -  _ So many lemon cakes, and all I could think of was you _ \- with a note from Elinor to Tristan tucked inside. 

Sansa wrote back - _ The dinner sounds dreadful, but it would be worth it for lemon cakes. And to see you.  _ Tristan blushed bright red when he gave her his letter to Elinor, and she chuckled. "You're just like Robb," she teased, slipping the letter into the envelope. 

They sent so many letters that Mira noticed. "Tell Margaery to stop neglecting me," she said, with a sly smile as Sansa blushed. "I  _ am  _ her cousin after all."

(Margaery's answer -  _ Tell Mira to write more interesting letters and perhaps I'll write back  _ \- had Sansa giggling behind her hand at the outrage on Mira's face. "I'll send her a  _ very  _ interesting letter," she said, tugging on Sansa's braid playfully as she left.)

Margaery rarely mentioned Tommen, or her engagement, so Sansa didn't either. She told her about trying the cardamom buns on feast days, and the wild roses the gardeners were trying to transplant. 

_ I've been conscripted by the gardeners - apparently I've asked so many questions that they decided I should learn for myself. Nothing has died under my care yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if Will trails after me, fixing my mistakes. _

_ I've pressed one of the wild roses for you - it smells the sweetest. I hope it isn't crushed on the way, and that it reminds you of home. _

Margaery's next letter had tear stains scattered across the page.  _ Sansa, your letter had me in tears as soon as I opened the seal, because it smelled like home. I've been trying to convince myself that I feel at home in King's Landing, but I miss Highgarden so much. I miss  _ you.  _ I don't know what I would do without your letters to look forward to.  _

Sansa clutched the letter to her chest, closing her eyes to hold back the tears. Her heart ached thinking of Margaery, locked away in that awful city, so far away.

***

One day Sansa was deadheading the roses when she heard a familiar voice call her name. She dropped her garden shears and spun around. "Margaery?"

Margaery laughed and ran up to her, arms outstretched, with her traveling cloak flowing behind her.

Sansa reached out to pull her close, hardly daring to believe it. "I didn't know you were coming!"

"I didn't know I was coming until a week ago," Margaery said with a tight smile, looping her arm through Sansa's like nothing had changed. 

"What happened?"

Margaery shrugged. "Cersei decided that I was bad luck and that Tommen shouldn't marry me after all. And without an engagement there wasn't any reason for me to stay."

Sansa bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted to be Queen."

Margaery shook her head. "Honestly it's a relief. Tommen is a sweet boy, but Cersei has her hooks in so deep that he won't stay sweet for long." She squeezed Sansa's hand. "Besides, I was able to to talk Grandmother into another idea that I think you'll like."

Sansa's eyebrows shot up. "Me?"

"Yes." She guided Sansa over to a bench under a trellis covered in roses. "What do you say to going back to Winterfell?"

"Winterfell?" Sansa whispered. "Really?"

"You're the rightful heir now, Sansa," Margaery said.

"But, the Boltons…"

"Are  _ very  _ unpopular," Margaery said. "You're a Stark. And as far as Westeros is concerned, you're the woman who killed Joffrey Baratheon. You're a hero. And with the Tyrells behind you, you can take back Winterfell." She raised her eyebrows. "What's the saying? The North remembers?"

Sansa stared. "But how did you convince your grandmother to put  _ me  _ on the throne of Winterfell?"

Margaery bit her lip, suddenly nervous. "Well, Grandmother's always arranged my engagements for me, but those have always ended in disaster, so I thought I might try it myself this time."

Sansa's mind spun. "An - an engagement?"

Margaery blushed and Sansa thought helplessly how pretty she looked. "I know this isn't how it's done," Margaery said. "I know I should court you, and buy you pretty jewelry and convince your family why you should marry me. And I can do all that, later, but…" She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "I wanted to ask  _ you _ to marry me."

"M-me?" Sansa stammered. "Margaery, you could have anyone in Westeros, why -"

"But I want you," Margaery said. "I never thought I could have love. I always agreed to marry whichever eligible bachelor my Grandmother picked, but I never loved anyone. Until you."

"Margaery," Sansa breathed.

"And if you don't feel the same, then I'll never speak of it again. And the Tyrells will still back your claim to Winterfell." She looked up at Sansa through her eyelashes. "You'll always be my dearest friend, Sansa."

Sansa laughed, blinking back tears. "Margaery, how could I not love you?"

Margaery's eyes brightened, and she smiled. "Really?"

Sansa squeezed her hand. "Margaery, you're kind and you're beautiful. You've given me everything. Of course I do."

Margaery's smile turned teasing. "So you don't mind that I didn't come in a tournament to prove my love?"

Sansa snorted. "No. In my experience, courting is rather dreadful."

"In that case…" Margaery whispered, leaning in to kiss her. 

Sansa gasped and reached up to cup her cheek. Margaery's lips were soft, and she tasted like honey and sunshine. She felt Margaery's teeth nip at her bottom lip and she smiled, deepening the kiss.

Sansa wasn't exactly sure how long they kissed, but when she finally pulled away to catch her breath she laughed. "I'm sorry, I got dirt on your nose," she said, reaching up to brush it away.

Margaery hummed. "It comes with the territory of marrying a gardener I suppose."

Sansa laughed. "You give me too much credit, Margaery."

"No, I don't," she said sweetly. She reached up and ran her finger down Sansa's cheek. "I like your freckles."

"I love you," she whispered, and Margaery smiled, brighter than the sun, and Sansa couldn't help but kiss her again under the roses.

**Author's Note:**

> This canon vibe check was inspired by all the gorgeous Sansa/ Margaery gif sets and photo sets on tumblr. I just wanted them to be happy and wandering through the rose gardens together!
> 
> I have a whole (very vague) headcanon for season 8, but basically the only thing you need to know is that Sansa and Margaery split their time between Winterfell and Highgarden, and that Sansa plants Highgarden roses in Winterfell. Also Dany doesn't go on a rampage through King's Landing, but Cersei does get eaten by a dragon. Oops!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! <3


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